Beyond Belief
by Ennairam Atrum Austerus
Summary: Holmes has been gone for two weeks now and Watson is beginning to worry. He goes to Lestrade only to find out that Holmes is in mortal danger. *rated M for violence and implied rape*


From the casebook of Doctor John Watson

24-06-84

It had been some time since I last saw and heard from my long time friend and partner Sherlock Holmes. I knew of course, when on a case, he would leave the house for days, staying God knows where. But know it had been two whole weeks since I last saw him and I was starting to get worried. I looked out of the window, pondering on what I should do. Should I wait, or begin to investigate as to why he had been away for such a long time. Walking towards the door, I grabbed my coat and walked out of the appartment. I hailed a cab, and asked him to go to Scotland Yard. You see, Holmes had been working on a case Lestrade couldn't solve, so I hoped that Lestrade might knew more as to where Holmes was.

A good twenty minutes later I arrived at Scotland Yard. I paid the cabbie, and walked towards the entrance when suddenly the doors opened and Lestrade walked out. 'How most fortunate I meet you doctor Watson! I was just on my way towards you, because I need your help!'

'Calm down, old fellow.' I said. 'Whatever is the matter?'

'Well..here, read this note I found just a few moments ago on my desk.

I took the note from his hands.

It read:

Dear Inspector,

I hereby let you know that you must really drop the case. If not I'm afraid I will have to take extreme measures. You see, I have taken Holmes captive and if you continue to try to get me in the block .Die.

Sincerely,

- - -

For a moment no breath escaped my lips. I stared at the paper with disbelieve. Holmes being captured...never, ever did I thought that could be the reason why he was away for two weeks.

'What shall we do, doctor Watson?' Startling me out of my reverie I looked up to see Lestrade nerviously wringing his hands.

'Rescue him of course!''

'But won't he kill Holmes then?'

'Not if he play it cleverly and carefully.'

'But we don't even know where he could be'

That' true..hmm...' I stared to think for awhile when suddenly the answer came flowing into my head. 'Of course! We'll go and see Mycroft.'

Lestrade looked at me questioningly. 'Who in the name of all that is good and holy is Mycroft?'

'Oh, you've never met him, haven't you? He's the older brother of Holmes.'

'I didn't know he had brother.' 'Neither did I. Holmes is rather secretivly about his family. But let's go, who knows what that fiend is doing to Holmes as we speak.'

*15 minutes later at the Diogenes Club*

Quietly we walked up the stair to the second floor. Having reached to fourth door there, I knocked. I opened up the door and was Mycroft looking out the window. I cleared my throat. Mycroft turned around to greet us.'Goodafternoon doctor Watson, inspector Lestrade. What brings you two to the Diogenes Club?' 'How do you know I'm inspector Lestrade?' Lestrade spoke up, with surprise written over his face. 'Quite simple realy. Having read the Strand Magazine and Watson's description of you it was easy to recognize you as inspector Lestrade. But tell me, why are you here?'

'Well' I spoke up. 'It's about your brother. He had been gone for two weeks and I was starting to get rather worried. Knowing he was working on the same case as Lestrade I went to Scotland Yard when, well, I think Lestrade can better tell you the rest.'

'Yes sir, well, I had arrived at Scotland Yard about and hour ago, when I saw a note lying on my desk. Having read it's contents I immedietly went out to see Doctor Watson, when he was already walking towards the entrance of Scotland Yard. We discussed the letter for a short amount of time and then decided to come to you, mister Holmes.'

'I see'. Mycroft said. 'May I see the letter please?' Handing the letter over to Mycroft I saw him visibly turning a shade whiter as he read the letter. Next he started to investigate the letter.

'You plan on rescuing my brother, no doubt?' He asked.

'Well, yes sir, but we have no idea where to begin our search.' Lestrade answered.

'Well, you are looking for a left handed man, who smokes American tobacco, probably lives alone somewhere in Whitechapel.'

Lestrade and I both looked at him with surprise written all over our faces. Mycroft began to explain: 'The inkt is slightly smeared out over the paper, making it harder to read. This only happens when you are left handed. There a pieces of tabocca stucked to the paper and smelling at it, it's clear that it's from America. That he is probably living alone can be told by looking at the back of the paper. It's covered in dust, telling us that the table or desk he wrote this letter on has not been cleaned for some time. That it's from Whitechapel can be discerned by looking at the mark to the left side of the paper. It's the sign of a three headed dog, which belongs to the district of Whitechapel. But what am I talking about. You now know your man, go look for him. I nodded, Mycroft handed me back the letter, which I tucked away into my pocket. Lestrade and I shook his hand and walked towards the door. Just when I was about to step out of the room I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to look into the eyes of Mycroft. 'Please find my brother, Docter.' I nodded to him, gave him a pat on the shoulder and then left the room. Once we where outside the building, we hailed a cab and drove straight to Whitechapel.

*At Whitechapel*

We stepped out, paid the cabbie and then stood silent on the street for awhile.

'Well then, where shall we begin?' I asked Lestrade.

'We could beging by asking the local people in the taverns if they know a person who fits all the characteristics Mycroft gave to us?'

'Capital idea, look, there's a tavern, let us start there.

We walked towards the tavern and once we where there we stepped inside. The place was thick with smoke, and crowded with people. I looked around and saw two empty chairs near the bard. We settled down and ordered two coffee. 'Sir, mind if I asked you a question?' Lestrade asked, while handing the bartender a silver coin. The man snatched it away and tucked it safely away into his pocket. 'Ask away sir.' Lestrade asked the bartender if he knew a man who is'left handed, smokes American tabacco and lives alone?' The man looked thoughful for awhile and then spoke up. 'I think I know of such a man sir, and he lives nearby as a matter of fact.' 'Where does he live exactly then?' I asked.

'Oh I couldn't tell you that, me good sirs. That be private buisness.'

Sighing I gave him another silver coin.

'Of course I can make an exception once in awhile.' He grinnned.

'Well, when you leave the tavern turn right. Cross the roa, then turn left. Keep walking until you reach a house with a three headed dog upon the door. Ya can't miss it.'.

We thanked the man, drank our coffee and started to walk off in the direction the bartender gave us. After five minutes we reached the house.

'Well, now what shall we do?' Lestrade asked?

'Hmm...let me see...' I walked towards the window and peeked inside. All I saw was a dark, empty room, apart from a table. The room was covered in dust.

'And?' Lestrade asked.

'It looks deserted, I don't think the man is here at the moment.'

Lestrade walked towards the door and gave it a slight push. The door creaked open, much to our surprise. Lestrade pushed the door further open. Greeting us was a dark, empty hallway.

It didn't seem anyone realy lived here, so we walked inside. At the end of the hallway we turned right and descended the stairs. Once we where on the first floor we looked around and saw only one door, to the right. I walked towards it with Lestrade following closely behind me. I opened the door and stepped inside, allowing Lestrade to enter the room aswell.

When we looked to our left I saw a sight I never, ever wish to see again.

Lying there, covered in blood, in a crumpled heap on the floor was Sherlock Holmes.

He was wearing nothing, except for his trousers. His back was turned towards us, revealing long, angry red welts, along with long and deep knife wounds. His trousers where torn around his knee and blood was seeping through it. His neck and shoulder where filled with small puncture marks and short straight wounds, as if a cat clawed at him. I don't know how I long I stood there, looking at the horrifying sight that greeted us. I only came to awereness when I saw Lestrade walking towards Holmes. Shaking my head I too walked towards him and knelt down beside him. Taking his arm in my hand I let out a hiss. They where covered in bruises. I took his wrist to check if he had a pulse. I found one, but it was very weak. Suddenly I heard Lestrade gasp. Looking up I saw that he was standing at the other side of Holmes, staring at his chest. Stepping over Holmes, I turned around and what I saw made me shook with anger and rage. On his chest stood out one word. Carved into his body with a knife.

'Mine'

I didn't know what happened, but I could guess as much. I turned around to look at Lestrade, who had become a shade whiter. I looked back at Holmes, and dropped on my knees beside him. 'Holmes?' I asked softly. He remained still, just the shallow rising and falling of his chest indicating that he was still among us. Turning my head around to say something to Lestrade, I noticed that he too had dropped beside Holmes, staring at him with a look of disbelieve, horror and anger. 'We'll have to take him to the hospital as soon as possible. He is dehydrated. If he doesn't recieve medical treatment quickly there is no telling how much longer he may live' Lestrade nodded. 'You're right, do you think you could carry him on your own?'

'Of course.' 'Good, then I'll just head down to hail a cab'

'I don't think that's a good idea inspector.'

I looked up, straight into the eyes of a long man, with blond hair and a thick mustache.

He looked at us with a murderous look into his eyes.

'It was a rather stupid thing to do, you know. Coming into my house trying to sneak away with Holmes. You almost succeeded, had I not returned so quickly.'

I couldn't hold myself back. 'How dare you! How could you!'

He looked at me, a smile playing around his lips. 'Do what, doctor? Returning to my house?

Oh no, wait. You mean what I did to Holmes of course. Well, it was rather easy you know. I knocked him out, brought him in here, tied his hands and feet, took out a whip with spikes and..'

'ENOUGH!' I bellowed. I stood up, and stamped towards him, with the intention of giving him a good knock against his head.

But before I could even reach him, a gun was pointed at my head. And within a second he whipped out another one out of his pocket and pointed it straight to Lestrade.

'Back up, please.'

Not being able to do anything, I obeyed and started to walk backwards, until I had reached the wall.

'You too inspector, back up, and stand next to the good doctor.' Within less then three seconds, Lestrade was standing next to me. His eyes never leaving the gun.

'Well, well. Pity that all good things must come to and end. For you that is. Not for me and our dear friend mr. Holmes here. Oh no. Quite clever of you both really. To find out where I lived. I wonder how you managed to figure that out. But no matter. I'm a busy man and you two are interrupting. I'm afraid that it's time to say goodbye.' He cocked the pistols in his hands, ready to shoot, when at that moment another figure entered the room, along with two policeman.

'I suggest you drop the guns, mister Sellower, and put your hands up.' It was Mycroft and while he said this he had pointed the gun straight to the back of the head of Sellower, as his name appeared to be. Sensing that he had no alternative, Sellower dropped the guns and put his hands up. 'Now then, policeman, if you would be so kind as to shackle the man hands please.' The policeman did as he asked, and then took him away. 'Doctor, inspector. I would rather stay here besides my brother, but I am required at the police office. Would you please take care of him? Thank you.' With that, he walked away.

We where both left behind, stunned at the sudden change of events.

'Upon my word doctor, I had honestly thought I was going to die, right there and then.' Lestrade said, his voice but a mere whisper, indicating how frightened he must have been.

'Believe me, I thought the same thing.' I answered him. 'Well, Lestrade, let's get Holmes to the hospital. The longer we stay, the greater the chances of him surviving decreases.'

Lestrade nodded, and started to walk downwards planning to arrange a cab.

I knelled down beside Holmes. And it was then I felt grief. Grief for the way my friend had been treated, or rather, mistreated. Picking up his body I noticed with increasing alarm how frightfully light he had become. He never was a heavy builded man, but now he was no more then a skeleton. I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to cry. I had to be strong, strong for Holmes. I walked down the stair, out of the hallway and went outside.

Lestrade already had a cab waiting for us. 'Good lord in heaven mister, ain't that Sherlock Holmes the detective?' The cabby asked. 'Yes he is. We need him to take him to the hospital as soon as possible. You know the way?' 'Of course, hop inside and I'll take you there as fast as I can.' We stepped inside and the cab started to move.

*10 minutes later*

We finally arrived at Charing Cross Hospital. We stepped out and Lestrade asked how much he had to pay. 'Nuthin' sure, just make sure mister Holmes will live.' And with that, he drove away. We stared after him, with a look of gratitude in our eyes. Then, we rushed towards to entrance of the hospital. Once inside we stopped the first doctor that we came across.

'Doctor please, this is Sherlock Holmes and he needs medical treatment right now.' I said.

The doctor looked down at body in my arms and tutted. 'Hand him over to me sir and I'll make sure he'll be treated immeaditly.' Doing as he asked I handed Holmes over to him.

Now, you may wonder why I did not treated to Holmes myself. Well, I was tought to never treat a patient you know intimately. It would only make the matter more difficult. And with Holmes being my best friend, I couldn't treat to him myself. 'Can I stay here doctor?'

I asked. 'Of course, I'll call you once we've finished our examination.' 'Thank you.'

With a nod, the doctor walked off.

Lestrade and I looked around for a seat. When we spotted two, we walked towards it and sat down. I looked at Lestrade and he looked very, very tired and pale. I spoke up:'I say, my good man, why don't you go home and get some rest. You're looking positively tired and worn out.'

Lestrade sighed. 'Aye, you're right. I do feel shaken up and tired. Will you notify me as soon as possible once you've heard anything about Holmes?' 'Of course I will.' Lestrade smiled, shook my hand and walked away.

Then came an agonizing moment. I wasn't sure wether Holmes would pull through or not. I started to think back about the moment Lestrade and I first found him.

His body covered in blood. His blood. The word carved upon his chest speaking volumes of what must have happened there. God knows how Holmes would be should he wake up. No, when he wakes up. I refused to believe that Holmes would die. He was too much a fighter to die.

I stood up and started pacing around. After thirty minutes of pacing, I saw the doctor coming towards me. 'And doctor, what are the results?' I asked before he even had a chance to speak up. 'Well' he began ' as you may have seen, his body is covered with welts, indicating that he has been whipped. Probably a whip with spikes, seeing that at the beginning of a welt the wound is much deeper. Also, someone cut into his back with a knife. He had been shot in his leg, just above the kneecap. Someone carved into his chest, probably carving the same word in the same place multiplate times. And there are scrathes around his neck and shoulders.

Nothing life threatening however. He will be rather weak for the days to come, since he lost a great amount of blood. As to his mental state...I have no doubt that besides the torture you know what took place there?' With a heavy sigh, I nodded. 'Well, something like that can have an enormous effect upon his mental state. Some people have commited suicide, not being able to live with what happened to them. But you know him better then me, so you'll probably know what to do.'

'Well, I've never seen him in such a state doctor. To be honest, I have no idea how he will be. But he'll pull through. I'll be at his sides all the time, no matter how long that time may take.'

The doctor nodded and smiled to me. 'If you like, you can see him now, though I'm not sure if he will wake or not.' 'Lead the way doctor.' I said, smiling a the man. He smiled back and led me to his room. 'The door is open, you can enter the room. No one is there and I'll make sure no one will come there untill you are ready to leave.' 'Thank you doctor.'

He nodded and walked away. I opened the door, walked in and closed the door behind me.

Lying there, in a hospital bed was Sherlock Holmes. I walked to his side and sat on a chair beside his bed. He looked to peaceful in sleep. Away from all the horrors he must have endured. I took his hand into mine and sat back, looking out of the window. I sat there for about ten minutes when I suddenly felt a small squeeze in my hand. Turning my head around I looked at Holmes. His eyelids began to flutter and slowly he opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling for a while. Then he looked down and saw my hand holding his. He then looked up and stared at me. 'Wa..Watson, could that truly be you?' His voice less then a whisper, but in the silent of the room I could hear his voice as clear as ice falling down upon the surface and breaking. 'Yes, old fellow, it's me.'

'H..how..' But he broke out into a fit of coughing. I pushed him up and held my hand on his back, carefully, to avoid causing him pain. 'Careful old fellow. As to how, I'll explain that to you later. Right now you need to rest and recover. 'Bu..but Watson, he..he maybe out there, lo..looking for me. I..I have t..to get out of here.' I felt anger boiling inside me. Here Holmes was, frightned like a child who saw a spider. No one ever managed to frighten Holmes, but he had done it. 'W..Watson, d..did I say some..something wrong?' I looked up at Holmes, he must have seen my expression darken. 'Oh Holmes, I'm not angry at you, I'm mad at the person who did this to you. But not to worry Holmes. He's been taken to the police station, and I'm sure that judgement will be brought upon him for what he has done.'

'Go..good.' He cleared his throat a bit. 'I..I don't know how to say this Watson, b..but I don't know h..how to deal with wh..what has happened. I...' He fell silent, looking down at his hands. 'What, my dear fellow? You can tell me, I won't laugh or go mad at you.' I said sofly.

'I..I'm scared Watson. He..he is still in my mind, you know, I do..don't know how, how t..to'

He fell silent again and I saw tears dropping from his eyes. I felt tears starting to form in my eyes aswell. I grabbed both his hands. 'Look at me Holmes, please.' He raised his head and I looked straight into his grey, watery eyes. 'We will pull through this together, you and I. No matter how long it may take. I won't leave your side until you are ready to face things alone again, Holmes. I promise.' He stared into my eyes, smiled and then he did something he had never, ever done before. He hugged me. At first I didn't react, not knowing how to. But then I slowly hugged him back. I heard a soft, almost inaudible whisper. 'Thank you Watson, thank you'. And then I just knew everything would be alright. Holmes would pull through, and he would never, ever had to expierence such a thing again. Because from now on, I would be at his side always. Even if he didn't want me to. Which later happened frequently, but that is a story for another time.

The End.


End file.
